


Trophy

by GoodJanet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Empathy, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt ~ Hannibal/Will - rough sex: When Will and Hannibal finally get together, Hannibal is a little (or a lot) too rough for Will's liking. He manages to get off by empathizing with Hannibal. Bonus: He describes what's going on with Hannibal's feelings and intentions like he does at crime scenes. Double bonus: As they climax, he says 'this is my design'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trophy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jukebox_head](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukebox_head/gifts).



It’s dark in Hannibal’s room, which isn’t surprising. Dark sheets, dark pillowcases, dark wallpaper. And the lights are turned down low. All Will can really see of him is the glint of his eyes and darting shadows. Will tries to focus on the moment, but all he feels is pain, which isn’t new but the origin is.

“Where is your mind, Will?” Hannibal rasps.

Will gulps and sucks in a breath. He’s going too fast, and it’s quickly shifting from “mildly unpleasant” into “barely tolerable.” Hannibal was far too sparing with the lubricant, but Will didn’t think he would concede to using more the than the minimum.

“Wandering,” Will whispers.

Hannibal appears to consider this, but even for an empath, his face is difficult to read. Will forces himself to be aware of the hands gripping his forearms and the sturdy chest that rests against his, but all he can manage to focus on is the hard cock ramming into his ass, over and over again. And though Will has done this before, he never quite imagined his first time with Hannibal would be like this. As if he were an object for Hannibal to use rather than flesh and blood. Did Hannibal only know how to honor people in death? Is that where Hannibal’s detachment is coming from?

“You are thinking loud enough for me to hear.”

Before Will can reply, Hannibal drops his head down to Will’s neck and sucks and licks possessively.

_Powerless. He wants to have control over me. I can’t move my arms or my torso. I’m pinned like an insect for observation. He wants to know how far he can push me. Hurt me just enough, but not too much. How many times can he enter and leave me before I am hollow? How deep inside me can he—must he—go before there is nothing but Hannibal inside? He wants to remove me. Eviscerate me. I’m a puppet. He likes me. Loves me even. Like a child loves a doll. Like a child fills up a doll’s mouth with words and thoughts that aren’t their own, all for the child’s enjoyment._

Some time has passed when Will returns to the present, and Hannibal has stilled. He’s watching him.

“W-why did you stop?” Will stutters.

“You were becoming unresponsive. Your eyes had become glazed over, as if your soul had evacuated the room while leaving your body behind.”

Hannibal fixes a piece of hair that had fallen into Will’s eyes.

“I feel weak.”

Hannibal nods and resumes fucking him.

“Leave the rest to me, my sweet Will.”

Hannibal smiles, and it could almost be real. Will wants to believe that it’s real. But he’s smart enough to know by now that it’s not. It’s an illusion, a trick, a scam.

_Why are you in his bed? Why did you let the trick work?_

Will’s not entirely sure. A thousand reasons. A human touch.

_“Human” is being rather generous. You like it when he takes control. You already feel powerless, and he is the perfect excuse to continue feeling that way. You know what he is. You know what he does. You’ve eaten at his table, and now you’re in his bed. He has consummated this relationship with you. You are his bride. And in you, he will breed monsters. You will carry beasts inside you that will fragment any remaining part of you. What horrors will you spawn together?_

“Will,” Hannibal grunts.

He must be close, the way he is panting. What is he waiting for? Will just wants it to be over. Will doesn’t even think he maintained the hard-on he had earlier in the evening. Will always did like the foreplay more than the actual act…

“Do it,” Will murmurs.

 _It’s more of a plea than a command. What does Hannibal see now? Not a bug. Not a doll. Not a wife. But a prize. A trophy. A living trophy to show around. A_ thing.

With a few more mighty thrusts, Will feels Hannibal come deep inside his ass. Hannibal moans throaty groans that rumble in Will’s ears.

Defiled, disheveled, and damaged, Will croaks, “This is my design.”


End file.
